There is something almost sacred in the quiet pause before a watch box opens. It is theatre without an audience, ritual without a priest, yet no less ceremonial for its intimacy. Whether the lid is hinged like a stage curtain or peeled back with the delicacy of wrapping paper, there is always a moment of suspended time before the watch itself is revealed. That pause is important; it is charged with expectation, with the thrill of culmination. The object you have dreamed of, researched to the ...